You continued to wash me. Slowly. Gently. Tenderly. You moved the sponge across my shoulder blades, lifting my arms up and washing my tits and stomach... The sponge moved slowly, and lightly over my tits, teasing my nipples and making them hard. You saw the reaction the soapy sponge had on them, so carried on in small, circular movements. My breathing became harder and harder. 'No noise, remember you reminded me Now stand up', you said, I did as I was told, the water and foam running down my. George’s second tale The morning following that first little episode, when Miss Amelia caressed my thigh, she was due to come for her lesson alone. My emotions were hopelessly tangled, an admixture of dread that she should carry this behaviour forward, and a longing for her to do something more. Having spent so much time with her, and even more in thinking about her, she was coming to seem less like some creature from faerie, or a princess from an Arthurian romance, and more like a person of. More

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